Dream of Knives
Alfred Yuson
Last night I dreamt of a knife
I had bought for my son. Of rare design,
it went cheaply of its worth – short dagger
with fancily rounded pommel, and a wooden sheath
which miraculously revealed other miniature blades.
Oh how pleased he would be upon my return
from this journey, I thought. What rapture
will surely adorn his ten-year princeling's face
when he draws the gift the first time. What quivering
pleasure will most certainly be unleashed.
When I woke up, there was no return, no journey,
no gift, and no son beside me. Where do I search
for this knife then, and when do I begin to draw
happiness from reality, and why do I bleed so
from such sharp points of dreams?
Alfred Yuson
Last night I dreamt of a knife
I had bought for my son. Of rare design,
it went cheaply of its worth – short dagger
with fancily rounded pommel, and a wooden sheath
which miraculously revealed other miniature blades.
Oh how pleased he would be upon my return
from this journey, I thought. What rapture
will surely adorn his ten-year princeling's face
when he draws the gift the first time. What quivering
pleasure will most certainly be unleashed.
When I woke up, there was no return, no journey,
no gift, and no son beside me. Where do I search
for this knife then, and when do I begin to draw
happiness from reality, and why do I bleed so
from such sharp points of dreams?
Task:
LOOK for the new words
SEARCH about the author
DON'T FORGET to bring your CRAYONS
No comments:
Post a Comment